Chapter 20
Olivia
J ust to the right of Millhouse Gallery, there’s a little café with a shaded patio, half-hidden by trailing ivy.
Most days, I spend my lunch break there—a quick thirty minutes with a latte and a pastry, watching the world go by.
But today, Alex asked me to meet him in his office.
I don’t know why, but Cassandra’s sly, knowing smile lingers in my mind as I make my way to Hawthorne Tower.
The lobby is all sharp lines and polished marble, glass gleaming in the afternoon light. I give my name to the receptionist, who directs me to the executive elevator. As I ride up to the top floor, I smooth my hair, straighten my blouse, and try not to overthink.
When the doors open, I’m greeted by the sight of Alexander Hawthorne, every inch the powerful businessman in his tailored suit, striding toward me with purpose.
“Olivia,” he says, and before I can react, he’s pulling me toward him, his arm wrapping around my waist. His cologne fills my senses, heat radiating from his body through my dress. Every inch of my skin tingles where we touch; I have to remind myself to breathe.
“Alex,” I say, aware of the curious glances from the lobby. “I thought we were meeting in your office for lunch?”
“I couldn’t wait. I needed to see you now.”
Heat blooms across my cheeks, impossible to hide. “We’re getting some looks.”
His fingers find my lower back, tracing slow, lazy circles that make it hard to breathe. “Let them look. I want everyone to see how lucky I am.”
Alex guides me back inside the elevator, his hand firm on the small of my back. I hesitate. “Shouldn’t we be going to your office?”
“Change of plans. I promise you’ll like it.”
The elevator doors close behind us, and the tension between us crackles.
“How have you been?” I ask, trying to break the charged silence.
“Better now,” he responds, never taking his eyes off of mine. The elevator ascends quickly, and I’m hyper-aware of every inch between us.
When the elevator opens, Alex steers me through the lobby, one hand on my lower back. We step into the sunlight, leaving the crowded restaurants behind, turning instead onto quieter streets lined with boutiques and galleries.
“Alex?” I question, but he just smiles.
“Patience,” he says, his fingers slipping between mine. “Some things are worth waiting for.”
He stops us in front of a modern building I recognize—one of the newer galleries that opened last season. The windows are covered with elegant drapes, unusual for this time of day. Alex produces a key from his pocket, and my curiosity piques.
“How did you—”
“I may have called in a few favors,” he says, opening the door and ushering me inside. “And Cassandra helped with some connections.”
The gallery space is dimly lit, the space transformed into something intimate and magical by a hundred flickering candles and rose petals scattered across the floor.
My footsteps echo softly on the hardwood floor as Alex leads me further inside.
At the center of the biggest hall, a table waits, set for two, champagne chilling in an ice bucket beside it.
My breath catches in my throat as I take in the romantic scene before me.
“What is all this?”
“I know everything about us is complicated,” Alex begins. “But I wanted to show you that this isn’t just about appearances or obligations. Not for me.”
I stare at him, my heart pounding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. “Alex, what are you—”
He closes the space between us. His hands are warm, steady, grounding me even as the world tilts. With a single, fluid motion, he’s on one knee, his eyes locked on mine. My breath falters, my hands trembling in his.
“Olivia Carter,” he says, voice rough and sincere. “You’re the kindest, most genuine person I’ve ever known. You deserve everything—the grand gestures, the quiet moments, all of it. Marry me. Let me learn every part of you. Let me spoil you, treasure you, make you feel safe.”
“I...” The word sticks in my throat. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. We had rules, boundaries—a plan. Keep it simple. Keep it safe. Keep it under control. But this is raw, and real, and it terrifies me in a way nothing else ever has.
He opens the box, and the ring inside is breathtaking—a single, perfect diamond, delicate and dazzling, scattering rainbows in the candlelight. It’s beautiful, elegant, and utterly overwhelming.
“Alex,” I whisper, unable to tear my eyes away from the ring. “I don’t know what to say. I didn’t expect this.”
He takes the ring from the box, holding it up between us. “You deserve more than a business arrangement. You deserve the full experience. This is not nearly enough, but we don’t have much time. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
His words settle over me, heavy and impossibly sweet. I realize I’m trembling, and I don’t know if it’s fear, or hope, or some impossible mix of both.
But I know, deep down, there’s no going back from this.
Slowly, I extend my left hand. Alex slides the ring onto my finger, and I’m struck by how perfectly it fits.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Only the best for my future wife.”
I can’t stop staring at the ring, at the way it glimmers with every tiny movement of my hand. It feels heavy, not just in weight but in meaning.
He stands, cupping my cheek in his palm. “It suits you,” he says in a low, husky voice. His eyes drop to my lips and then back up to meet mine. “That ring looks like it belongs on your finger. Like it was always meant to be there.”
Before I can overthink it, I lean in, closing the distance. Our lips meet, and it’s like striking a match in a dry forest.
The kiss deepens, and I’m lost in the sensation of him—his hands cupping my face, his fingers threading through my hair, the way his heartbeat thunders against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
His touch is gentle yet demanding, and I respond in kind, my fingers trailing up to tangle in the soft strands of his hair.
Every part of me is alive, electric, as if I’ve been waiting for this moment without even realizing it.
When we finally break apart, both of us are breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other.
“Olivia,” he murmurs, “come stay with me for the rest of the week. Let’s use this time to get to know each other before Friday’s announcement.”
I bite my lip, considering. Part of me wants to say yes, to just give in and see where this goes. But another part—the part that’s been burned before—is screaming at me to be careful.
“At your place?” I repeat, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. “You think that’s a good idea?”
Alex’s eyes darken, his gaze sweeping over me. A slow, wicked grin curls his mouth, making me shiver. “Which part? Spending time together, or the sex?” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Or both?”
“Sex will complicate things.”
“Olivia.” His tone is serious now. “There’s no pressure. I want to get to know you. The rest, we figure out as we go.”
“I want to be clear about our expectations. Are we just friends? Are we using each other for convenience? What are our boundaries?”
“We’re friends,” he says quietly. His thumbs brush my cheekbones, sending a flutter through my stomach. “And we are lovers. I don’t share, so if you agree to this, you’re mine. In every way that matters. But if you want boundaries, tell me now.”
“I’m good with monogamy and moving in, but if I want you to be honest with me, and if anything changes—promise me you’ll tell me.”
He nods. “I promise. I also want you to say anything. Everything.”
“Even if I think you’re being an arrogant ass?”
“That is, in fact, a requirement.” His eyes spark. “Though I prefer ‘irresistible bastard,’ for the record.”
I laugh, surprised by how light I feel, how easy it is to breathe in this ridiculous, candlelit shrine to us. I let my fingers graze the edge of the ring, still half expecting it to be some costume prop from a play.
But the diamond is cold, and real, and heavier than any promise I’ve ever worn.
“Okay. We’ll try it your way.”